


Happily Ever After?

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Sir Snow is a heroic knight. Lord Pitch is an evil warlock who kidnaps the princess. Sir Snow defeats Lord Pitch and saves her every time. That's how the story is supposed to be. Right?





	Happily Ever After?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I did it :) It took awhile to figure out exactly what the plot should be but with some help from the amazing Mrs_ZombieOctopus, I hammered it out. I hope you guys like it :D

**Simon**

He’s going to show up. I can just feel it in the air, or in my bones, or in my stomach. Though that could just be hunger. I’m always hungry. I bite into my sweet bread while my eyes dart around.

“Good Lord, Simon,” Agatha says, “what did that bread ever do to you?”

I flick my eyes over to her. She’s walking next to me through the market stalls. The sunlight glitters beautifully across her gold and diamond tiara. Wind pulls at her soft pink skirt. She looks very pretty. There are two guards walking in front of and behind us, (not that they’ll do any good if _he_ comes.)

“He’s going to show up today, I can feel it,” I grumble.

Agatha sighs heavily, shaking her head. “You always say that.”

“I mean it this time!”

“Like you meant it last week, and the week before that, _and_ the week before that. But when was the last time he showed up? Two months ago?”

I frown, almost bordering on a pout. “I mean, yeah, but that just means he’s due to show up again. He never goes away for too long.”

“Unfortunately.” Agatha looks like she almost has a scowl. But she’s been trained to be a proper princess too well to actually do it. “I wish he would just stop it.”

“Me too, Ags,” I sigh. “Maybe if he went away, your parents would finally let us get married.”

“Hm, yes.”

She goes all calm, proper princess again, looking out at the dirt road in front of us. I wonder if she’s thinking about our wedding. It’s going to happen someday. Everyone knows we’re going to get married. We’ve practically been betrothed since school. We’re meant to be. Princess Agatha, heir to the throne of Watford, and Sir Simon Snow, the greatest knight in the land. We’re meant to be. So we’re going to get married, someday at least. Maybe after I finally defeat him. My time is too occupied with that to think about marriage.

We start walking through the town square. The people greet Agatha, and she talks to them graciously. She’s never patronizing, just kind. Some of them come up to me, asking about my adventures across the land. I do my best to answer them but my mind is far away. I’m thinking about where and how he’s going to appear. A big explosion? Massive tidal wave? Riding a dragon? He would ride a dragon, the tosser. He likes to be all dramatic and shit. It’s infuriating how good he is at being an all powerful, majestic evil warlock.

There’s a loud crack in the sky. Everyone freezes. I look up. The sky has turned grey all of sudden, when it was clear blue two seconds ago. Thunder groans and rumbles around us all. Everyone starts gasping and mumbling. I inhale sharply, hand immediately going to my sword.

“He’s here,” I mutter.

No less than a second later, there’s another crack. The clouds part, and lightning flashes, illuminating his silhouette. He’s standing on a cloud, dressed in a glittering dark silver jacket and trousers, night black cape flapping in the harsh wind along with his hair. He poses dramatically above us all, and I can see that stupid smirk on his face.

“Baz,” I growl.

“Good afternoon, Snow,” he says smoothly, voice dripping with annoying smugness. “You don’t have to try with that sword, we both know it’s useless against me.”

Stupid bastard. I growl again and unsheathe my sword, because fuck him. He makes a dismissive snort, which just makes me more angry. “How about you come down here and fight me properly? Or are you afraid you’ll lose again?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and his thin lips curl into a scowl. It’s annoying how beautiful he still looks when he’s mad. “One lucky shot does not a hero make, Snow.”

“Says the guy who lost. So let’s have a rematch.”

Baz tilts his head to the side, showing off his long neck. He does that a lot, showing off. Thinks he’s so fucking perfect just because he’s a strong, graceful, ruthless warlock. “Now, why would I do that, when I can just do this?”

He pulls his ivory wand from his sleeve and points it downwards, right at Agatha. I look her in the eye just before she soars upwards. She screams as she zooms up into the sky, gown flapping and tiara falling onto the cobblestone. Baz pulls his arm in and Agatha zooms towards him. She floats next to him, arms and legs frozen by her side. She looks unbelievably annoyed. She used to be scared the first few times this happened, but nowadays, she just gets perturbed.

“Bring me ten thousand gold pieces,” Baz calls out grandly, “or the princess will never return. You know where to find me, Sir Snow. I look forward to your surrender and my ransom.”

The clouds pull around both of them, and the dark storm flies away unnaturally fast. I try to chase after it, but it’s past the horizon when I reach the edge of town. My lungs are burning. I heave, bent over with my hands on my knees.

“Shit,” I pant. “I need my horse.”

I turn on my heels and race back towards the castle. It’s on the other side of fucking town of course. People part for me, thankfully. They know who I am, and they saw the weird storm clouds. Everyone knows what’s going on. This has happened a lot over the last two years. Some took a few days to resolve, some a few weeks. We do this over, and over, and over again.

I shake those thoughts from my mind as I reach the castle. The stables are right there, and I can see Penelope already standing with my rucksack and holding the reins of my horse, Cherry.

“I saw the sky from my study,” she said. “Storm clouds this time? Really?”

I sigh as I take the reins from her. “Yeah, I know. His cape and hair were flapping in the wind and everything. Dramatic twat.”

Penny scoffs, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, we’re fully aware of that. When will you be back?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Hopefully a week at most.”

“Alright. As long as it’s not a month.”

“Nah, don’t worry, I won’t get lost this time. I know the route off by heart now.”

“Mhm, alright. Got your mirror?”

I pat the side of my rucksack, where I can feel something smooth in the side pocket. “Yup, always. I’ll call you as soon as I make first camp.”

“Good.” She puts a kind hand on my wrist. “Be careful out there, Si.”

I peck her hairline. “Always am, Pen.”

It’s a familiar mantra we have, for every time this happens. She knows I’ll be alright, I have been for the past two years. But it’s still nice to know she cares.

With familiar ease, I get on Cherry’s saddle. She’s a good mare, very well trained, and she likes me so that’s a plus. I give one last smile over my shoulder at Penelope, then I flick the reins. And we’re off. To get to Baz, to save Agatha, to adventure.

Again.

* * *

 

**Agatha**

We land on the top turret of Baz’s manor, the wind dying around us with a low whine. My hair falls in my face. I try to blow it out the way but it’s useless.

“My hair’s a mess,” I grumble.

“Terribly sorry,” Baz says, voice genuine and kind. He stopped being mean to me awhile ago. “If it’s any consolation, my hair is a complete rat’s nest too.”

I scoff. “Serves you right for using such a ridiculous spell.

“I suppose so. Come along, you can freshen up in your room.”

Contrary to what most people believe, Baz doesn’t keep me in a dark, dirty, cold little cell in some dungeon. He tried that the first time he took me but I kicked up such a fuss he let out me out and put me in a warm little storage closet instead. After the fourth time, he gave me my own room. It’s nice. Not as nice as my one at home, but better than a cell or a closet. We walk down the hall towards it. Baz opens the door for me. He can be quite the gentleman. But he’s still my captor.

“I’ll go get supper ready,” he says. “Lamb stew alright with you?”

“Sounds lovely. My throat is dry from that stupid storm wind.”

He chuckles as he walks away. I gently close the door behind myself. There’s a simple cotton dress laid out on the bed. Baz started having clothes ready for me after the sixth time. He’s very considerate, actually, for a kidnapper.

I change out of my itchy gown into the dress. It’s soft and smells freshly laundered. Baz must’ve been planning this for a bit. I sometimes wonder how much he plans for these things. It seems he did for this one, at least.

As I walk through the halls to the dining room (I know the way by now), I look around, taking in the details I’ve forgotten over the past couple months. The house is all dark wood with intricate carvings, probably made with magic. Low burning torches burn across the walls. Portraits of very stern, proper people look down at me. Baz has told me about this manor. It’s been in his mother’s family for generations. After her death during the battle between her land and Watford, his father moved them back to his own family home. But once Baz was of age, he took back his this manor and vowed to make Watford pay. That’s when and why he first kidnapped me. Though I’m very sure that’s not the reason anymore.

The dining hall is as grand as I remember. The table is a massive ebony line. It probably could’ve fit a hundred people at it’s capacity. Now it’s just Baz and I. We used to sit at the opposite of the very long ends, but now we’re across width wise. Still apart, but closer.

Baz is already sitting, still in his silver jacket and raven cape, black ceramic bowl and red wine glass in front of him. There’s a setting for me too with white wine. Baz knows I prefer white over red by now. I take my seat, politely putting my napkin on my lap. Baz lifts his glass to me.

“Cheers, your majesty,” he says. He still says that, even though I’ve told him to call me Agatha.

I raise my own glass and clink it with his. “Cheers, Lord Pitch.”

We drink our soup and wine in peace. This used to be tense but we’ve settled down quite a bit. Though it’s more tense for me tonight, because I have something I need to say.

“Baz,” I say, “why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” Baz replies. “Eating? I need it. Despite what Snow believes, I’m not actually a vampire.”

“No, Baz. Why do you keep doing this? Kidnapping me?”

Baz tenses up, already statuesque body going even more rigid. “You know why, your majesty.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. (Learned that Penelope, the best court mage ever.) “Yes, yes. Your land and Watford fought, your mother died in said fight, and when you came of age you returned here to get vengeance for her death and did so by taking the Watford heir. I got the whole speech during kidnapping number one.” I point my knife at Baz, which is absolutely on purpose. “But that’s obviously not working, since that speech was sixteen kidnappings ago. So, answer my question, why do you keep doing this?”

He somehow gets even more tense. I swear his muscles are made of rock. “My reasons stay the same.”

I groan and roll my eyes again. And I thought Simon was frustrating to talk to. Simon mumbles and stutters, but Baz is a stone wall. He doesn’t let anything out, even when it’s so obvious. “Drop the act, please.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says while looking pointedly at his soup.

“Stop pretending, Baz! Despite what people think, I’m not an spoiled royal moron, I notice things. Like how I noticed the way you looked at Simon when he wasn’t watching!”

He drops his spoon into the stew, making brown liquid splash up and coat his hand. He immediately goes for the napkin and cleans it off, but his fingers are shaky. Yup, I know I’m right. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

I point my knife at him again. “Two months ago, last time Simon rescued me. We were riding away when I looked back over my shoulder, just out of curiosity. You were standing there all bloody from your fight with Simon. But you didn’t look angry or defeated. You looked sad, Baz. And longing, for something or someone you were looking at. For a second I thought it was me, but I quickly realised you were gazing at _Simon’s_ back, not mine.” I lower my knife slightly, trying to look as sympathetic as possible. “That’s why you keep taking me, right? So you can see him again.”

“That would be ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“Exactly. It is ridiculous that you insist on randomly stealing me from my home instead of just bloody talking to Simon.”

He snorts. He’s good at that. “Snow is more of a ‘hit first, ask questions later’ kind of bloke, we both know that. I doubt he’d be willing to talk to me.”

“He won’t if you keep acting like a prick and kidnapping me.” Baz doesn’t say anything. I sigh and put my utensils down. “Baz, look, I understand how hard this must be for you. You and Simon are supposed to be enemies and it’s obvious you care about him instead. That must be hell. _But,_ that doesn’t mean this is okay.”

Baz looks up. He seems genuinely worried. “What are you speaking of?”

I glare hard at him, trying to funnel all my frustration into one look. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. I hated being your pawn when I thought you were using me for revenge, but I’m even more annoyed that you’re using me just to see Simon again. I’m not some object for you to steal because you’re so emotionally inept that you can’t admit your affections!”

Finally, Baz’s stone face cracks slightly. He looks incredibly remorseful, which is even worse, honestly. It would be so easy to hate Baz if he was a straight up villain, but he’s not. He’s a person who has made a lot of mistakes, but still a person. He slumps a bit into his chair. It’s barely noticeable, but I notice. I’ve known him long enough.

“Look,” I sigh, “I really do understand. But that doesn’t make it okay. Using me as a dangling carrot to attract Simon is wrong. Using me period has always been _wrong._ You can’t keep doing it, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. I’m tired of it, Baz. So, you’ve got one more chance.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, voice slightly strained.

“It means, this is the last time you steal me from my home. Simon is going to come to get me in a few days time. You have until then to decide to tell him. If you don’t, that’s it. Because if you kidnap me again, I’ll escape again.” I stand up, leaning over the table to glare at him through the candlelight. “And then I will come back here myself, with the entire army of Watford behind me. Do you understand, Basil?”

In the years I’ve known Baz, I’ve never seen him frightened. He’s not scared now, just shocked, which is the closest I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he expected me to be so assertive. But I’m pretty sure that no matter how much sympathy I give, Baz won’t admit his true feelings. So scaring him into no longer kidnapping me _and_ finally fucking talking to Simon seems like the better option.

I stare him down for another long minute, until the mask pulls over Baz’s face again. He dabs the corners of his mouth with his napkin then stands up, straightening his coat and picking up his bowl.

“I’ll be taking my leave for bed now,” he says calmly. “Feel free to finish your dinner, your majesty. I will see you tomorrow.” He used to say, _don’t try to run,_ but that stopped after kidnapping number ten.

Baz turns and starts walking away. He looks like he always does, graceful and poised. But I notice the small tremor still showing in his hand. I hope this wanker bloody well listens to me.

* * *

 

**Baz**

The speed at which I walk to my room, after depositing my dishes in the kitchen, is almost inhuman. Maybe Snow is right and I am a vampire. It would explain why my heart feels dead inside. Well, it’s not dead actually, just fucking idiotic.

I enter my room and close the door a bit too hard. I immediately start pulling at my jacket frantically. Stupid thing feels like it’s choking me. I actually hate these glittery, stiff clothes, but it completes the image I’m trying to create. Luckily, I don’t need them here alone. I throw off the jacket, and the trousers, and the fucking cape. Then I flop on my bed, dressed only in my white tunic and linen underpants. Finally I can breathe.

Today has been a day. First the kidnapping, which I planned, then bantering with Snow, which I looked forward to, and then Wellbelove giving me an ultimatum, which I did _not_ expect. I know she’s not the weak flower others think she is, but that was still a surprise. She’s right though, kidnapping her all the time is very wrong. She deserves better than being my pawn. I should have stopped ages ago. I didn’t though, all because of my...feelings.

Fuck my feelings. They’re stupid. I’ve known that since the moment I saw Snow for the first time, when he first rescued the princess. He burst into my manor in all his golden glory. He was beautiful, brave, strong, fucking perfect. Even when he was yelling at or fighting me I was so dazzled by him. But it was stupid, and I instantly hated myself for it. I still do.

What would my mother think? Falling hopelessly in love with the champion of the kingdom that killed her. And can I even call it love when I haven’t talked to him properly once?

Looks like I’m going to have to now, or lose my final chance.

After magically snuffing the torches, I curl under my thick fur blanket, nearly in the fetal position. I close my eyes and try not to think of him. But my dreams are still filled with blue eyes and bronze curls.

* * *

 

**Simon**

I don’t make camp until well into nightfall. Probably not a good idea, but I want to cover as much as ground as possible. I want to be back in a week, like I told Penny. We ride until we reach the edge of the plains that mark the end of Watford’s territory. All flat grass with few trees, but there’s one tree, which is my spot. It’s all dirt with a bit of blackened wood from my last fire. I won’t start a fire tonight. It’s warm and I’ve got some snacks that Penny packed.

Cherry and I stop next to the tree. I throw her reins over a branch even though I know she won’t leave, it’s just to be safe. I stroke her mane as I feed her a carrot.

“Good girl,” I whisper, “you did a good job today.”

She neighs happily. If she were a person, she’d be grinning.

I set up my own cot on the dirt and immediately flop down. My legs and arms throb with exhaustion from riding for so long. Two years later and the first ride still wrecks me. I can feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but before I pass out, I grab a packed scone and my mirror. While I’m eating the lovely treat, I tap the mirror twice. Magical ripples go across the glass. Soon Penelope’s face appears in front of me.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I reply.

“It's late. You shouldn’t wait this long to make camp, Si.”

I sigh, rolling onto my side. “I’m fine, Pen. I’ve done this before.”

Her lips twist a bit. That’s her worried friend face. “Yeah, you have. Aren’t you getting tired of this?”

I shrug and take a violent bite of my scone. “I have to do this. If he keeps taking Agatha then I have to keep going to get her.”

“That’s not what I asked, Si.”

Fuck. I know that she’s right, but I don’t know what to say. I look down at the ground. “I should get some sleep. Night, Pen, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Simon-”

I swipe across the mirror and Penelope’s face ripples away. I eat the last chunk of my scone, then roll on to my back. The stars are beautiful tonight. They sparkle like the gems on Baz’s jacket. Stupid wanker, thinks he’s so great because he’s so powerful and gorgeous. I’ll show him. I’ll defeat him and get Agatha back. Again. Like I’ve done sixteen times before. Like I’ll probably do for sixteen times after.

The thoughts start to creep into my mind again. I turn on my side and force myself to bed, just so I don’t have to think about it.

* * *

 

I wake up before sunrise, barely having slept four hours. My eyes feel gummy and my muscles feel tired. Nightmares again. I’ve had them my whole life. Usually they’re of Agatha and Penelope dying because I couldn’t save them, or the kingdom falling to pieces, or worst of all, the orphanage. The memories of that place will never go away, I guess.

Cherry is just waking up as well, whinnying and shaking her light brown mane. I calm her down easily. Luckily she likes me quite a bit. (Can’t say that for a lot of humans, unfortunately, but I prefer my horse over them anyway.)

It only takes a few minutes to pack everything up. I’ve gotten good at it over the past two years. I get on to Cherry’s back again, stroking her neck.

“Good girl,” I coo.

With one flick of the reins, we’re off again. We fly over the grass with the wind whistling in both our hair. I try to let the air wash away the nightmares and remind me of my mission. Get to Baz, get Agatha back, be a hero. Just like always.

* * *

 

**Baz**

I bet Snow has many theories on what I do when I’m not kidnapping his princess. Probably that I conjure dark forces or sacrifice tiny animals or drink blood. Well, contrary to his beautiful pea brain, I don’t do any of that. Blood would be disgusting. Usually, I’m just in my garden.

It’s a lovely place, filled with bright flowers and useful herbs. It was an overgrown mess when I first came back here, but two years later and I must say, I’ve done a bang up job restoring it. Everything is thriving and the plants are each put in a good place, yet it all still retains its wild charm. I’m quite proud. And I just like gardening. I like maintaining the greenery, making sure everything is growing right, using the herbs for potions and remedies. It keeps my mind off everything, especially him.

I’m in the middle of the garden, watering the lilies. The sun is beating down on me brutally. I pull at the tight collar of my scarlet jacket, feeling drops of sweat roll under it. Usually I’d be wearing simple linens for gardening but with Wellbelove here I need to keep my ‘grand warlock’ image up. Though tending to pretty flowers might hurt that appearance already.

“It's looking lovely.”

I turn to see Agatha standing behind me, wearing a cream dress and her golden hair in a braid. She's beautiful, the kind of girl my father would want me to marry. And I would, if I had any interest in women. (Or anyone besides Snow.)

“Thank you,” I say. “The lilies turned out well this season.”

“They certain did.” She walks forward, arms swinging at her sides. “So, are we going to talk about last night?”

In lieu of answering, I turn my back and march towards my rosemary plant. It needs watering too. Unfortunately I hear her steps follow me.

“You can’t run from this, Baz,” she says.

“Watch me,” I grumble.

She scoffs very loudly. “You kidnapped me and now you’re avoiding me? That’s rich.”

“If you’re going to keep bugging me, then yes, I will avoid you. I’d rather talk to my plants.”

“They won’t give you any advice.”

“And you will?”

“Yes!” I hear her get closer. “My advice is put down your wand, tell him to put down his sword, and just try to actually talk.”

I snort as unkindly as I can, just to get my point across. (Though I’m not sure what my real point is beyond “that’s impossible” and “I don’t want to.”) “Like the great hero will want to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I think he actually will.”

What? I look over my shoulder at her curiously. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

She sighs, fiddling with the end of her braid. “I was going to tell you this last night, but you left before I got the chance.”

“Tell me what?” I’m getting frustrated, and concerned.

She chews at the corner of her lip. “Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I will tell you that Simon talks about you an inordinate amount.”

I snort again. “Yes, because he hates me.”

“I don’t think you spends ages going on about how pretty the hair and clothes are of someone you hate, Baz.”

My head snaps up and I inhale sharply. What?! I spin around to look at her. “Wait, seriously?”

Agatha nods slowly. “Honestly, most of his conversation topics revolve around you. When you’ll strike next, what you’ll do, and definitely how annoyingly perfect you are. It’s a miracle if I can get him to talk about anything else. I promise that your obsession isn’t one sided, Baz.”

My cheeks become more red than my jacket. It’s involuntary and completely fucking stupid. Wellbelove obviously notices, shown by her tiny smile. I can’t tell if she’s happy for me or mocking, but either way it’s not good. My feelings are far more obvious than I ever wanted them to be.

“He wants to marry you,” I blurt out defensively.

She shakes her head. “No, he thinks he’s supposed to marry me, because I’m the princess and he’s the knight. But he definitely thinks about you a lot more than he thinks about me. More than a hero should about his rival, I think.”

My stupid fucking blush gets even worse. The very thought of that makes my heart nearly explode. Agatha can clearly see it. I should talk to her about it. I haven’t talked to anyone about it in the past two years.

But unfortunately, I’m a certified coward.

“I have tonics to make for the townspeople,” I quickly say. “Feel free to roam the garden, and your books are still in the library. I will see you for supper.”

Once again, I run away. I walk calmly while the princess can see me, but the second I’m alone, I sprint across the stone. I stop only when I reach my lab/study. There are three shelves of pristine leather bound volumes and multiple many shaped glass bottles filled with iridescent liquids lining the walls. Papers with multiple notations are spread over my dark wood desk. There’s quite a lot of paper. It’s either a beautiful testament to my intelligence, or strong evidence of my growing insanity. Most likely a horrifying concoction of both

I sit heavily in my desk chair, staring blankly ahead at the large chart in front of me. (It’s sixty five different tonic recipes. I’m more than a bit obsessive.) I’m still processing Agatha’s words. So, Snow never stops talking about me, be it about my plotting or apparently my hair. What does that mean? Is he just a hero obsessed with his villain? Or...could he possibly feel something close to the horrible, wonderful things I feel?

No, never, not really. Why would he? I’m his evil warlock who kidnaps his love. I can’t be anything else. And it’s not like I’d actually know what to do if he wanted me back. I’m not capable of even showing affection properly. I’m so emotionally stunted that I kidnap a princess just so he’ll come to my manor again. How could I ever give him the caring and kindness he deserves?

I can’t. I never could.

* * *

 

**Agatha**

I just watch him as he literally runs away from his problems, _again._ I hoped telling him about Simon’s obsessiveness would help, but it seems to have just made him panic more. Honestly, I do feel a bit bad for him. He’s obviously extremely tortured by this. Which makes sense. I’d be tortured too if I was in love with my mortal enemy. He must be in agony.

Still, it doesn’t excuse what he’s doing to me. I shouldn’t have been part of this game to start with, and I refuse to continue. I hope he figures out his own heart soon. I don’t want to storm his manor because he’s a lovesick moron, but I’ll have to if he doesn’t stop.

* * *

 

**Simon**

Cherry and I make good time. She must just as determined to get to Baz as I am. We get past the plains and reach the edge of the Wavering Wood. It’s a massive old forest, filled with ancient trees, hanging vines, and sparkling lights. It’s a treacherous, horrible place. The first time I came in here, I fell in a bog. The smell didn’t come off me for a two weeks. Baz called me a smelly troll with that stupid pretty smirk.

Fuck the Wavering Wood.

I slow Cherry to a trot. There’s one good path I’ve found through a lot of trial and error. It’s thin, but mostly free of poisonous animals or fucking bogs. Cherry carefully walks across the dirt. I keep an eye out for any wayward wildlife, hand on the handle of my sword. Luckily, nothing decides to jump at me for once. Compared to my previous treks through here, this is quite peaceful.

That is, until I get to the end.

There’s only one exit for the Wavering Wood. Well, unless you want to cut through a mass of overgrowth that could hide any number of horrible magical things. It’s the one little open archway made of bending branches. I don’t know if it was made by sword or magic, but I don’t care. I just want to get out. However, one wor: bandits.

He’s right in the middle of the exit, wearing a brightly coloured coat and holding a curved sword. He's young but looks full grown, with strong, visible muscles. This guy must be new, I’ve never seen him before. He’s got his chest puffed out ridiculously big. Cherry and I approach him slowly.

“Who goes there?” he announces grandly.

“Sir Simon Snow of Watford,” I reply. “I’ve already paid the toll here before.”

“Not to me.”

I groan. “Look, sir, I’ve been through this bef-”

“Silence.” He points his sword at me with flourish. “If you won’t pay in coin, then pay in blood.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Fine, if you insist.”

I get off Cherry and lead her to the side. She’s seen me fight before, so I know she’ll stay calm. I take out my broadsword, swinging it back and forth lazily. It’s a heavy sword but I’m strong. (I may or may not be showing off a bit.) We both raise our weapons and take stance. I already notice that his legs are too wide. Pfft, amateur.

“En garde,” I say.

He doesn’t reply, just goes straight for a swing down. Wow, very rude. Guess young bandits don’t like dueling etiquette. I easily block his swing, despite the strong arms, then push back. His poor stance makes him stumble and flail like a turned over bug. I step forward, going for a more direct swing at his weapon. I’m really not trying to hurt this kid, I just want to disarm him. He blocks me with far more force than necessary. Again, amateur. One quick twist of my foot and I have the upper hand, pushing him back again. Dueling is like dancing, and- Well, I’m a shit dancer, actually, but dueling comes way easier. The rhythm of the fight flows through me like a rushing river as I parry every one of his hits and keep forcing him to give ground. This is good actually. I’ve been tired, and this is something I still enjoy.

We go back and forth for a few more minutes. He screams in frustration and throws a huge swing. It breaks the rhythm but I block it. He puts all his weight behind it, which is his mistake. I hold back for a few short moments. And then I step to the side.

“Gah!” he screams before falling face first into a mud puddle with a resounding splat. I can’t help but snort and giggle.

“I think I won this duel,” I say.

“No,” he growls, “this fight is not over. I will-

“Niall! Enough!”

We both turn to the voice. I grin ear to ear. There she is, with two guards around her, in all her golden coated glory, the Queen of the Bandits. She walks with her cane in one hand and sword in the other. She looks amazing as always.

“Miss Possibelf,” I say, “good to see you.”

“And you too, Sir Snow.” She glares at the mud covered boy. “Apologies about Niall. He’s new and still learning.”

I shrug, the smallest pleased smile on my mouth. Kinda the way Baz looks at me sometimes when I mess up. It’s infuriating but I sort of admire it too. “I think I taught him a few things.”

Miss Possibelf grins too. “I certainly think you did.” She pats my shoulder. “Get a move on. You’ve got your princess to save.”

For some reason that makes my chest strain. Right, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Saving Agatha, being the hero, fighting Baz. I can’t stay here, even though I want to chat with Miss a bit longer.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I should go. See you next time?”

She pats my shoulder once again, looking at me with a soft smile. “Yes, we will.”

I get Cherry and remount on her. I give one last wave to the bandits (Niall glares at me) and ride off back onto my path. I refocus my brain on my quest; Get to Baz as soon as possible.

* * *

 

I try to ride all the way to the Pitch land border, but Cherry gets tired. I can’t push her any further without hurting her. I won’t do that. Luckily, we get to my favourite inn, Pritchard's. I put Cherry in the stable next door, bringing her to the feeding trough, then go in the grand front door. I open them with a bit more flourish than I meant to. It’s a lot like Baz, honestly.

“Simon!” The patrons cheer happily. They come up to me, ruffling my hair, hitting my back a bit too hard, asking many questions about my most recent quest.

“Same old, same old,” I chuckle. “Baz has taken Agatha again.”

“Such a strange bloke, that one,” a man grumbles.

“Very pretty though,” a barmaid comments.

“Definitely,” I say, “it’s so annoying. Evil people shouldn’t be allowed to be beautiful too, it’s not fair to us good guys. Their prettiness makes it hard for people to stay on the good side.”

That makes both of them laugh. At least my sense of humour is appreciated here.

I go up to the bar, where Cook Pritchard is. She smiles at me happily. “Hello, Simon, nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Cook.” I put some coins on the table. “Got a pint for me?”

“Always.” She pours a large wooden mug for me. I drink down a few large, throat burning gulps, and let out a sigh. I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol, but Cook Pritchard makes it very well.

“Thanks, Cook.”

“No problem, Simon. Need the bed for tonight?”

“Yes, please. I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

She chuckles and pats my head. “Of course, I’ll get it ready for you. Always glad to see you again, Simon.”

I smile back. Even though this quest is tiring, there are some good parts. This is one of them. I just wish I didn’t need an evil warlock and a kidnapped princess to be here.

* * *

 

**Baz**

Over the years, I’ve found walks help clear the mind. Or at least quiets it for a few moments. I walk around the walls of the manor. I put them here two years ago, in theory to keep the princess inside, but really it’s to keep everyone else out. Perfect metaphor for my life, I’m aware.

Out here, I like to practice my magic. The nice kind, not the scary kind I use with Snow. I’m waving my wand around, creating patterns of light in the air. Sparkling streams of violet, crimson, and rose fly through the air, then dissolve into the wind. I smile to myself. Part of me wishes that Snow could see my magic like this, not the frightening way I show it to him.

I just finish a rainbow figure eight when I hear the smallest sound. I freeze, immediately thinking something nefarious has reached my family home’s walls. I spin around, wand outstretched.

“Who goes there?!” I shout. “This is my property, you will not get through!”

There’s nothing for a long moment. Just the whistling of wind through the branches and nighttime hoots of owls. I stand there still, a fixture in the nature around me. Until there’s a rustling behind me.

I whip around so fast my hair hits me in the face. I spit out the strands in a very undignified fashion. And when my vision is clear, I come face to face with with a pair of bright yellow eyes.

“The fuck?” I say.

It blinks up at me. For a second I think it’s a wolf or a raccoon, but as it steps into the dim moonlight, it’s all too clear; my intruder is a cat.

It’s very, very small grey cat with incredibly fluffy fur, limping it’s way out of a bush towards me. Those big yellow eyes keep blinking at me. It makes the tiniest little meow up at me. And I must say, it’s adorable.

“Hello,” I say, lowering my wand, “who are you?”

The cat meows again. It sounds weak, and there’s blood on it’s left leg. Injured, probably by some larger, stronger animal. My magic feels a storm coming very soon. Without help it’s not going to survive out here in the cold rain. Logically, I know it’s my responsibility to help. It’s a cat, it’s nature, shit happens. I don’t have to do anything. I’m busy, I shouldn’t.

It blinks it’s big, glowing eyes up at me and meows pathetically again.

Fuck.

I take off my black cloak, sweeping it off my shoulders. I reach out my hand to the little thing. It sniffs my hand for second, then gets closer, nuzzling it’s tiny fuzzy head against my fingers. Slowly, I pick it up, wrapping it up in my cloak. The cat burrows down into the fabric, and I can feel it purring softly.

Fucking hell, what am I doing?

* * *

 

**Agatha**

“For fuck’s sake, stop scratching me, you brat!”

When I hear Baz shouting from the kitchen like that, I assume he’s working with some sort of hell creature he’s summoned from the dark depths. What I don’t expect is to see Baz, all powerful lovesick warlock, trying to put bandages on a very small cat.

“Baz,” I say surprised, “what are you doing?!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes. He looks incredibly embarrassed. “Um, I found something outside.”

“I can see that, but what you doing?”

“The animal is injured. I’m trying to bandage it’s legs.”

I raise my eyebrow. “You can’t use magic?”

He shakes his head. “My healing spells are meant for larger human limbs. I don’t know any animal ones. So, bandages.” He tries to leg again, but the cat scratches at him, and he yelps. “You little rat,” he grumbles.

I sigh, shaking my head this time. “Hold that cat’s paw out, I’ll do it.”

He blinks at me in surprise. “You know how to do this?”

“Yes. I work with animals. Mostly horses, but I’ve helped the castle veterinarian with cats too. So gently hold the cat down on their side and I’ll take a look at the wound.”

Baz still looks doubtful but thankfully does what I say (that’s a first). The cat squirms and whines, but doesn’t escape. Baz isn’t too forceful though, just holding them gently on the table. I take a look at the cat’s little paw.

“Alright,” I say, “it’s not a deep wound, just a scratch. You’ve got skin cleaner?”

Baz pushes me a little glass vial and linen bandages. I rip off a tiny piece, soak it in the clear liquid, and put it against the cat’s paw. The poor thing yelps and whines. I’m about to reach out to pet them, but Baz beat me to it. He brushes the back of his long fingers against their tiny head. The cat bends towards his touch, even closing their eyes.

“There there,” he says quietly, “it’s alright, you rat. It’s helping. You’ll feel better soon.”

The cat doesn’t struggle at all as I wind the bandage around it’s leg, not even a little. I’ve never seen an animal so calm without the use of a tonic or a spell.

“Okay, all done.” I’m a bit curious, so I lift the cat’s leg slightly higher. “And this cat’s a girl, by the way.”

“Good to know,” Baz replies. He carefully gathers her back up in his black cloak. The cat snuggles into the fabric, closing her eyes and audibly purring.

I look up, and Baz’s expression is complicated. His mouth is a tense, thin line, the muscles in his jaw obviously straining with effort. But his grey eyes are incredibly soft. The only other time I’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable was when he gazed at Simon’s back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Because something’s wrong, I know it.

Baz rolls his lips together. “I don’t know why I did it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Did what? Brought the cat inside?” He nods slowly, still looking pained. “She was injured and she’s small. Taking her inside was the right thing to do.”

“I don’t do the right thing,” he grumbles. “I hurt other people for my own means. I’m not even nice, I’m a class A arsehole.”

“You help the people in your town.”

He shakes his head, clutching the cat closer. “I do that out of duty. They’re my subjects, I have to care of them. This was just a random animal wandering around. I almost left her. Why didn’t I?”

Baz looks so distressed. I’ve never seen him so...not scared really, just perplexed, and anxious. This little cat is causing him so much confusion.

“Baz, it’s called compassion-”

He scoffs. Not at me, I think, more at the concept. “No, no, I can’t. I’m evil and cold. I’ve had to be. I can’t be anything else.” He scratches behind the cat’s ear. “I’m not good...”

I sigh again, but less at Baz and more at this situation. He doesn’t think he’s capable of being a good person. So that’s why he refuses to talk to Simon. Idiot. I stand next to him, arms over my chest.

“Baz, you don't think you're a good enough person to be happy, right?” His silence and lack of eye contact is a good enough answer. “Well, here's a revelation; you don't have to be cold and evil if you don't want to be. You can be a person who takes in injured cats, helps others out, doesn’t hurt people for his own ends, and lets himself show his love for someone.”

His face tenses up. If it were anyone else, I would say he was on the verge of tears. He pets the cat, probably without even thinking. I walk up to him and put my hand on his arm. He flinches but doesn't pull away. That’s an improvement.

“I know that terrible things have happened to you,” I say as kindly as I can. “Your mother dying must have been awful, along with losing your home and whatever else you went through. You don’t have to pretend all that doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t make you too broken for happiness either. You’re obviously miserable living like this. So maybe it’s time to start trying something different.”

Baz stares down at the little grey cat like it’s a piece of the universe itself, beautiful and terrifying. I scratch on her chin, making her lift her head. I flick my eyes up to see Baz smiling softly.

“Think of a name?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe Rat, because she’s grey and kept scratching me.”

“That’s a mean name.”

“Rat it is then.” I give him a deadpan look. The bastard is still smiling. “My cat, princess, I get to pick the name.”

I smile back. “Your cat, huh? So she’s staying with you?”

He nods slowly, petting Rat’s head. He looks me in the eye without any sign of fear or cold mask. “No matter what happens with Snow, I won’t take you ever again, Agatha. I promise.”

His voice is firm, and his expression is serious. I know he’s telling me the truth.

“Good,” I say. “I hope things go well with Simon.”

Baz’s smile is a bit strained, but his eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them before. He’s trying. That’s good. That’s very, very good.

* * *

 

 

**Simon**

It takes awhile to get out of the tavern. Cook Pritchard gives me three scones to keep me fed on my way, making me promise I’ll eat them. Then every tavern patron wants to say goodbye to me. I’ve gotten to know them quite well. Maybe I should come here when I’m not on a quest. That would be nice, to be here without the weight on my shoulders.

I give Cherry a thorough brush before we go. She deserves it for being so good through all this. After she’s well cleaned and fed some carrots, we set off again.

Luckily, there aren’t anymore bandits or treacherous magical forests on the path to the Pitch Lands. It’s mostly tall grass and a few trees. There’s only an occasional garter snake that spooks Cherry a bit, but she’s good. She’s faced dragons and giants. Snakes are nothing for my brave girl.

At late evening, we crest over a hill that marks the border of the Pitch Lands. I see a small cottage in the distance with little white dots around it. I grin ear to ear, then spur Cherry into a run. The wind rushes through my hair as we descend. I can’t control the rapid beating in my heart. As we get closer, the little white dots come into focus. Their fur, hooves, horns, and finally their adorable faces. I stop Cherry and swing off her with ease. I kneel down, scratching their little heads

“Hi, kids,” I coo, “good to see you again.”

“They’re happy to see you too, Simon.”

I look up and see exactly who I expect. Ebb looks about the same. Old red sweater, large wooden staff, and short blonde hair. The dying sun lights her up perfectly so she looks like an angel. Which she is. Ebb is probably the best person I know.

I stand up. I’m a bit taller than her, which makes it easier for me to hug her tight. She chuckles and hugs me back. “Hi to you too, Ebb.”

“Hi, darling.” She pulls back but keeps a hand on my arm. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I sigh. “Could use some tea if you got any.

"Course I do. Want to tie Cherry to the post?”

I look over my shoulder. Cherry is happily prancing on the grass. “Nah, she’s fine. She won’t go too far.”

“Alright. Let’s get some soup and tea.”

We walk in to Ebb’s little cottage. It’s a wonderful place, made of softwood and covered in vines. There’s a main sitting area that takes up most of the place. It’s got a stone fireplace, two wicker chairs, and a very colourful rug. There’s a small kitchen to the left and Ebb’s room to the right. Her brother’s old room is behind the wall with the fireplace. That’s where I stay when I’m here. It means a lot that she lets me, considering what happened to him.

After getting the fire started, something I’m good at now, I sit in my usual chair, putting a knitted throw blanket over my knees. My muscles throb with the exhaustion of the past few days. Even resting can’t get rid of the persistent ache in my bones. I sigh, sinking into the cushion. I hear Ebb chuckle.

“Tired, Simon?”

I crack my eye open. She’s smiling at me from over the kitchen counter, where she’s magically heating up some bowls and cups. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I’ve done this so many times but it still takes a lot out of me.”

“Hm, yes, it is quite a journey. All the more reason you need some sustenance.”

She puts the tea blocks in the water, then walks over and places the clay bowl in my lap and the mug in my hand. Heat tingles through my whole body. “Thanks, Ebb.”

Ebb settles in her own chair, placing her staff next to her. “You’re welcome, dear.”

We drink the soup and sip on the tea. It’s a warm vegetable broth with potatoes and carrot bits. It tastes  _so_ good. I love Ebb’s soup. Once I’ve drank the entire bowl, I put it down and turn to Ebb, who’s softly blowing on her tea.

“How are you doing, Ebb?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, love,” she says. “Me and the kiddies have been okay. Delilah is doing very well.”

I smile brightly. Delilah was born the last time I was here. I even helped Ebb deliver her. But she was born very weak. We did our best with her magic and my bandages, but when I left to fight Baz there was still a chance she wouldn’t make it. Two weeks later, I got a letter from Ebb saying Delilah was getting much stronger. I was so relieved. I’d fought dragons and saved a princess more times than I could believe, but hearing that I helped a little baby goat survive felt like my greatest victory

“That’s very good to hear,” I sigh.

She smiles as she sips her tea. “How are you, Simon? Off to save Princess Agatha again?”

I groan, letting my head loll back on the chair. “Yeah, again.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Sixteen or seventeen, I think. I met you at number five.” My weight shifts forward, making me curl in on myself, clutching my mug tighter. “I don’t get it. Why does he need to keeping doing this? He’s got a huge manor and amazing magic and perfect clothes. He doesn’t need Agatha or the money.”

Ebb shrugs. “Maybe it’s just to hurt Watford. Your kingdom did kill his mum.”

That makes me wince. It’s not a nice reminder that the kingdom you fight for killed someone, especially the mother of a five year old boy. (I’ve read a lot about Baz. That’s how old he was at the time, apparently. Only five.) Watford has fought a lot of wars in a lot of places, actually. Watford has caused a lot of pain...

“But why doesn’t he just blow us all up?” I blurt out the second the thought comes into my mind, drowning out everything else. “If he wants revenge, he could just make the castle explode. Wouldn’t that be easier? Does he just like torturing me and Agatha particularly?”

Ebb shrugs again. “Don’t ask me, Simon. He’s your villain. You know him better than anyone.”

“Exactly! But I don’t get it!” I groan, slumping forward even more. “I’m just not sure what he wants anymore, Ebb.”

“Maybe you could ask him.”

I whip my head to look at her. She’s actually being serious. “What?! No! I can’t do that! I-I can’t just ask him. He’s the villain, I’m the hero, so I stop him. W-We’re not supposed to ‘talk it out.’ That’s not how it works!”

She gives me a look of genuine concern. “But Simon, is that what you really want? Just doing this over and over forever without knowing why?”

I open my mouth, but no words come. My entire body deflates, like every bit of strength has been sapped out. Honestly, I’ve been feeling like that for awhile, it’s just easier to collapse right now because of how safe I feel right now. Ebb’s cottage has always felt safe.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I just do it. I’ve tried not to think about it, but I just...don’t know. All I know is that I’m really tired.”

“Long ride today?”

I shake my head. “No, not just that. _Everything_ feels tired.” I sink into the chair. I want to sink into it forever. “I’m so tired, Ebb.”

Suddenly, something touches my knee. I crack an eye open. Ebb’s hand rests on me, patting me kindly. “Then you should get some rest, dear. Sleep on all of this.”

I nod slowly. I push myself up and out of the chair, taking my rucksack with me. We go to the room behind the fireplace. Ebb’s hand is shaky as she pushes the door open. It’s just like her own room, cozy and nice. The bed is in pushed against the left wall, right near the fire. It’s always warm at night.

When I look at Ebb, I see a few tears fall down her cheeks. I put an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. She used to pull away but not anymore.

“I still miss him sometimes,” she whispers. “Poor Nicky. He should still be here.”

I hold her tighter. Nicodemus, Ebb’s twin brother, died years ago, but Ebb still gets sad over him a lot. He made connections between shady people apparently. And one day he crossed the wrong shady person. Poor guy was stabbed in the gut, bled to death for hours behind a building. Other people think Ebb is too weepy. But I would be weepy too if my brother was murdered in cold blood. It’s such a kindness that she lets me sleep in his old room. I wish I was as kind as she is sometimes.

“I know, Ebb,” I say. “I wish he was here for you too.”

She squeezes my hand, her calluses scratching me slightly. “Thank you, love. I’ll be alright. I’ve got the kiddies. And I love having you around when you pass by.”

Pass by, yeah, that’s all I do. I should come see her more, when I can stay longer. I want to tell her that, but I’m too tired to say the words. (And it’s not like words come to me easily then I’m alert.) So I just hold her a bit tighter. She pats my chest kindly.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Ebb helps escort me to the bed. The second I sit on the firm but soft mattress, I know I’m done for. I’m really, _really_ tired. I flop down on the pillow, not even bothering with putting on my linens or pulling up the quilt. I just need some rest.

“Goodnight, Simon,” I hear Ebb say, though her voice is distant as I drift off.

“Night, Ebb,” I reply, muffled by pillow.

There’s the low click of the lock, and I’m shrouded in darkness. I try not to think about the stresses of the day. But when I dream, all I see is Baz’s stupid, smug, pretty face.

* * *

 

**Baz**

The only thing I enjoy almost as much as my garden is going into town. Pitch Town was founded by one of my ancestors. Ever since then it’s been my family’s job to take care of its citizens. I take that job very seriously.

I dress in my simple clothes (no need to be flashy for normal citizens), load my bag with my wand and healing potions I’ve made, and put on my best boots. It’s a half hour’s walk and I don’t want blisters. In theory, I could float myself there, but why waste magic like that? And why intimidate the citizens? They don’t need to be scared of me. Though now I’m wondering if Snow needs to be scared of me either.

As I’m putting on my brown wool cloak, something brushes my leg. I make an undignified yelp and jolt away. I look down, and frown.

“Rat,” I sigh, “you scared me.”

She meows up at me, blinking her pretty yellow eyes like she’s done nothing wrong. Cute little brat. She keeps rubbing against my ankle, purring softly, nuzzling me in that absolutely adorable way. I try to move away but she follows.

“What do you want? I’ve already fed you, brushed you, petted you so much my fingers hurt. What else could you possibly want?”

She keeps nuzzling and blinking up at me. Fuck, I think I know the answer. I sigh, shaking my head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

I lean down and scoop up Rat, placing her in my wicker basket. She curls up on top of the soft cover and purrs happily. It’s probably a good idea to get her out of here. She used to live in the wild. The manor must be a big change for her. And it’s nice to have a companion on this trip for once. I sigh, scratching behind her ear.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” I mumble to myself more than her, “but I do appreciate it.”

She meows again in some form of answer. I do up the last button of my cloak, and we’re off.

* * *

 

The walk itself is quite peaceful, save for Rat nearly jumping out of my basket to chase a butterfly. (She barely makes it out, what with the injured leg and all. Adorable moron.) Over some green hills, across flowery fields, until I see the red brick houses of Pitch Town. They’re like shining flowers on the green surface.

I walk down the cobblestone roads, waving back at the people who wave at me, writing down if they have any concerns I need to address next time I’m here. I even magically repair a wall for someone. Their child laughs as the bricks swirl up into place. It’s a lovely sound, and it reminds me of my siblings. I wonder how they’re doing. I’ve been so focused on Pitch Town and Snow that I haven’t had time to think about my family. I should send them a letter.

I go down my list of people that need potions. I knock on doors and everyone answers me with a grin. It still astounds me when people are happy to see me, but I’m trying to stomp those self loathing thoughts down more. I’m trying to let people be happy around me.

Eventually, I make my way to the main square. The stalls are colourful and bright, lots of people hawking their wares and laughing and talking. It’s so much better, so much happier. I’ve always just considered it just my duty, but maybe Agatha has a point. I’ve helped here. Maybe I should feel good about it.

I walk up to a particular stall. The man in it raises his head and then grins in full force. “Lord Pitch!” he says with his booming voice. “Good to see you!”

I shake his strong hand. “Good to see you too, Mr. Hawkins. How have you been?”

“Oh wonderful since you gave me that tonic. Leg pain is completely gone.”

“Good to hear. I’ve got some more for you.” I reach into my basket, and Rat decides this is the perfect time to wake up from her nap. She tries to nip at my hand and I yelp. Mr. Hawkins starts laughing heartily.

“I see you’ve got a new friend,” he says with his smile.

“Yes,” I grumble, “very adorable and annoying new friend.”

“She got a name?”

“Rat.”

He chuckles. “Very good. My husband just calls our cat Stupid.”

Rat tries to gnaw on my finger again, and I gently push her away. “That may be appropriate for this one too.”

Mr. Hawkins laughs at me again. He reaches out and offers his thick finger. Rat bites at it, but his calluses are so thick he doesn’t even flinch. He plays a little tug of war with her which she seems to enjoy.

“She likes you,” I chuckle. “Do you know if I should feed her anything in particular? She’s-”

“You guys got any scones? Sour cherry maybe?”

I freeze. My entire body goes rigid. Fuck, I know that voice. It haunts my fucking dreams. Sweet, lovely, strong, usually yelling at me to surrender. I flick my eyes to the left. Fuck my life, there he is, wearing his light armour with that infernal sword on his hip. Blue eyes, bronze curls, goddamn beautiful Simon Snow, standing right at the other end of the market with his bloody horse. I know I’m supposed to talk to him but not right now, I’m not ready, I need to be ready.

I quickly flip up my hood. “Sorry, Mr. Hawkins, I-I need to go. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“Alright, have a good day, Lord!”

I wave as I dash off. Rat is disturbed by going so fast though, so I slow down to a slightly frantic speed walk. Even with magic to fly back, it’s going to take me fifteen minutes to be ready. I pray to God that Snow is as easily distracted as I know him to be.

* * *

 

**Simon**

I’m gnawing on my scone (blueberry not cherry unfortunately), holding Cherry’s reins, as I walk through the town. It’s really nice. I’ve never been here before. I always take the more direct route straight across the fields, but Ebb suggested I try somewhere new to help get out of this tired funk. Penny agreed when I called her this morning. She was very cross that I hadn’t called her for days. Maybe I can find something to bring back for her, to say sorry.

We walk past a booth and I stop. It’s filled with lovely ceramics and glassware, twisted into wondrous shapes. My mouth hangs open as I stare.

“Anything I can help you with, good sir?”

I look up, then up, then further up. This man is _huge._ He’s like a giant, and I’ve seen those before. “Uh, hi. Is this your stuff?”

“Yes it is,” he says with his booming voice. “Anything you like?”

“Yeah. Like, all of it. You’re really good.”

“Thank you, Mr.- May I ask your name?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s Simon.” I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, his grip firm and strong. “I’m Mr. Hawkins. Lovely to meet you too, Simon. I’ve never seen you around. New to our town?”

I let his hand go (and don’t let him see the way I shake mine out, damn he’s strong.) “Yeah, never been here before. It’s really nice.”

“Yes, we’ve done quite well in the past few years, considering what we were like before.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, our town was falling into disrepair not too long ago. After Lady Pitch’s death we were easy targets. People were raiding us, looting, everything. We were getting sick too, what with no mage to help our ailments. But ever since Lord Pitch returned, we’ve been doing much better. He’s been such a big help.”

My eyes bug out and my jaw falls so far open I could catch flies. “Wait, what?! Lord Pitch helps you?!”

He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when really it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. “Yes, of course. His family have taken care of us for generations and he’s no exception. He does a lot for us. He just gave me some new tonic for my leg.”

“Wait, Baz was here?!”

Mr. Hawkins is taken aback, his expression saying he thinks I’m crazy. Which I don’t blame him, it feels like I’m crazy right now. “Um, yes, he just left a few minutes ago. He gave me the tonic and let me play with his cat. Very nice young man.”

My mouth falls even further open. This is completely nuts. So Baz, the evil warlock who ransoms Watford’s princess, takes care of a whole town, brings people medicine, owns a _cat,_ and is very nice. And strangest of all, he was just here, so he must’ve seen me, but he didn’t try to attack me. Doesn’t he hate me? Why wouldn’t he try? What the ever loving fuck is going on? It feels like everything I thought I knew about Baz is shattering into itty bitty little pieces. He’s nothing like I thought, not like that at all.

“Okay,” I say quietly, “wow, that’s, uh, wow.”

“Are you alright, son?” Mr. Hawkins asks.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just gotta, I gotta go. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Simon.”

I start rushing through, past the bustling main square and all the smiling faces. It’s astounding to think that all of this could be Baz’s doing. And in a _good_ way. There are so many questions swirling in my head, and I need answers. So I think it’s time I ask.

* * *

 

Approaching Pitch Manor feels different this time but it really shouldn’t be. It’s still the same tall, dark place, with thick woods and walls. I leave Cherry tied out front of the large entrance like always, take out my sword on instinct, and push the doors open. It’s the same receiving hall I’ve been in sixteen times, made from dark wood and filled with scary carvings. And there he is, standing in the middle of the room like always.

Baz is dressed in his bright white sparkling jacket and trousers with his black cape. It looks good on him, like always. He’s got his hand behind his back and shoulders straight. His expression is unreadable as always. But it’s less cold, I think. Just, neutral.

“Hello, Snow,” he says flatly.

“Hi, Baz,” I reply, “I’m here.”

“I can see that. And you’ve got your lovely little sword. Plan on using it well?”

I open my mouth to retort, but then I think of the smiling faces in town. And I wonder how much of an arsehole Baz actually is. If there’s something else underneath. For once, I want to know more. For once, I want to be kinder to Baz, be more like Ebb. So I toss my sword to the side, letting in clunk on the stone. Baz’s calm mask breaks, his eyes going wide.

“No,” I say firmly, “I’m not. I don’t want to fight.”

Baz looks very taken aback. “Oh? Are you surrendering for once? Makes my job much easier I suppose.”

“Actually, I just want to ask you some questions.”

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. Baz clears his throat then straightens up again. “Well, if it’ll make this all go quicker.”

“Can you drop your wand? I don’t want to get zapped.”

Baz pulls his arms out from behind his back and shows his empty hands. “I don’t have my wand.”

He offers no further explanation even when I gape. He just stays still, though there’s a twitch to his lip that I can’t figure out. I don’t understand. But I nod and step forward.

“I’ve gotta ask,” I start, “what’s up with you?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, you keep doing this whole thing of taking Agatha and demanding the ransom, but it never works. I stop you every time but you keep doing it.”

“I’m stubborn,” he replies.

“Yeah, but you’re not stupid. I’ve fought you, you’re smart as fuck. So why do you keep doing something that keeps not working?”

I start stepping closer. Baz stays still. “Watford killed my mother.”

“So why don’t you just blow up the whole bloody kingdom? You’re powerful enough, I know that too.” I’m only five feet away from him now. “Except, I’m-I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore.”

“Oh? You thought you knew me in the first place?”

“Yes! We’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly for two years now, Baz, I’ve gotten to know you. You’re brilliant, powerful, strong, and I thought you were, y’know, evil too. Now I’m not sure.”

Baz inhales sharply. I’m close enough I can hear that. “I see. You do make stupid assumptions, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “Can you stop being an arsehole to me for like, two minutes?”

I wait for a retort, but Baz’s face softens. He lets his arms fall to his sides. “I suppose I can try.”

Well, as if this say isn’t already full of surprises. I step closer. “I thought you were evil, but evil people don’t take care of a town, make tonics for them, apparently own a bloody cat, or,” I get even closer so there’s only three feet between us, “let their sworn enemy go when he’s just down the street.”

He gulps, and I think I’ve finally got to him. “So you talked to Mr. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, I did. He told me what you did for their town, and he said you left a few minutes before I showed up. You could’ve fought me right then and there, but you didn’t. Why?”

I can see and hear him take a deep breath. “Maybe, I didn’t feel like fighting then.”

My head tilts to the side in curiosity. “Do you feel like fighting now?”

The way Baz’s expressions shifts is fascinating. All those calm, unfeeling walls melt away like butter on a hot stove. He doesn’t look like the emotionless arsehole I know, or even the calm statue I saw a few minutes ago. He doesn’t look like a villain. I don’t think he’s a villain, actually. I think he’s just...a boy.

“No,” he says quietly, “no, I don’t. Do you?”

I shake my head instantly. “No. I’m tired of fighting.”

He sighs, and it sounds like relief. “Me too. I’ve been tired of it for awhile.”

Huh? That only confuses me more. “If you’re tired of it, then why did you keep taking Agatha? Couldn’t you have stopped?”

“Yes, I could have, and I should have. But I didn’t want to.”

“Why? To hurt Watford?”

“No, because...” He looks me in the eye with the most vulnerable, human expression I’ve ever seen on him. “Because, it meant a certain knight kept coming back here.”

I blink at him in utter disbelief. I hear the words but I don’t understand them, not at all. “You...you wanted me to come back?”

He nods slowly. “Yes.”

“But, why?”

Baz doesn’t answer with words. His sharp tongue seems to vanish in an instant. But I watch as red spreads across his pretty face. He’s...he’s blushing. Baz Pitch, terrifying warlock, is blushing. And I think I finally get it.

“Oh,” I squeak. “You...you feel like that?”

He nods again, eyes downcast and arms curling up over his chest. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A long time. Almost since we met.”

My mouth falls open. “Seriously?” He keeps nodding. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He looks up again, but it’s only to glare at me. “You’re the champion of the kingdom that killed my mother. It wasn’t good, or even possible I’m supposed to hate you, and I knew you hated me.”

My feet moved forward before I realise it. I’m so close to Baz now. I can count every shade of grey in his eyes. He has really pretty eyes. “I don’t hate you,” I whisper. I don’t need to be louder, he’s that close. “I thought I hated you, but I don’t think I do now.

His gaze widens in disbelief. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, you’re kind of an arsehole.” He frowns, and it’s kind of...adorable. “But I don’t hate you, not anymore at least. In fact, I think you’re pretty amazing. It’s annoying how great you are.”

He looks even more shocked somehow. “What are you saying, Snow?”

What the fuck _am_ I saying? I’m not sure myself. All I know is that I’m really close to Baz right now, but I’m not scared. Actually, I like it a lot. I like having him here, in front of me. Not fighting or off plotting something. Just here where I can see him and make sure he’s alright.

“I’m saying,” I step even closer, “that maybe a certain warlock is what brought me back here too.”

His eyes are so wide they look like full moons. “Do you really mean that? Because I don’t want to be toyed with, Snow.”

“I do. I really, really do.” I reach forward, and while he does stiffen, he doesn’t flinch away. So I carefully tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. It’s soft, just like I’ve always thought it would be

“Simon...” His eyes flick briefly down to my mouth. And for the first time ever, my impulses aren’t a bad thing.

I lean forward and I kiss him.

Baz’s mouth is cold, colder than a normal person probably should be. But he’s softer too. Like a cloud made of silk. It’s such an incredible revelation, and I want to remember it forever. My eyes slide shut, trying to sink into the feeling. But Baz is still rigid under me. I put my hand on the nape of his neck, running my thumb over his sharp cheek, moving my lips more, trying to coax him to relax. And suddenly, I feel the tension seep out of him. His body unwinds, and he finally starts kissing me back.

Our lips slide together like that’s all their made to do. Baz’s arms cautiously wind around my waist. I put both my hands in his soft hair. His arms get tighter around my waist. He presses into my back, like he’s trying to get to my skin through the armour. I desperately want it off right now so he can touch me, so I can feel his long, rough fingers. We keep kissing slowly. My mouth opens and Baz follows. I nearly collapse when our tongues touch. But Baz’s strong arms keep me upright and I hold him, pull him closer. I feel like I’m exploding and falling and just...amazing. Everything just feels better than ever before.

We pull apart, but keep our foreheads together. Our breathing is loud in the echoey hall. Baz’s arms don’t loosen on me. I don’t let go either.

“I like this,” I whisper against Baz’s swollen lips. “I like this better than fighting.”

He sighs and brushes his nose against mine. “Me too.”

We keep standing there, breathing each other in. I don’t know what we’re going to do, there’s still so much to talk about. But I’m not letting Baz go.

* * *

 

**_Four years later_ **

I wake up and immediately reach out to my right, but instead of tepid skin, I feel something furry. My eyes blink open and I frown. Baz isn’t there, but Rat is. She’s stretched out and purring in his spot. I lean up on my elbow, giving her a long pet. She bends towards my hand. Rat is a very lovely cat. I wish Baz hadn’t given her such a god awful name.

I look around our room. The curtains are still drawn over the window, but I see a little light bleeding in. It’s barely morning. And Baz isn’t here, which means he’s in his study. The damn bastard never stops working. Unless I get him to.

Slowly, I sit up, stretching my arms up. The blanket falls down a bit too far and I shudder for a second, a bite cold air hitting my bare skin. That’s what I get for sleeping in just my pants. It’s a good thing we live alone at the top of a hill. Sometimes I’m tired after a long day of goat herding and forget pajamas. Baz doesn’t mind at all. He likes to use my warm skin as his personal heater in these colder months. 

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip on my fur slippers. They were a gift from Penny, to keep me warm in the wild. (This isn’t the wild but it’s a nice thought anyway.) Then I throw the quilt over my shoulders, pulling it around me like Baz used to do with his cloaks.

I pad through our cottage in my slippers. It’s a mile away from Ebb’s place and less than an hour from Pitch Town. Baz and I spent six months designing and building it. We made it from light wood, green painted metal, and clay tiles. It’s not very big, just enough room for us, Rat, and the occasional guest. (Though we can expand when we add little humans to our family. Which we will someday, when we're a bit older.) Others would call it cramped. I call it cozy. I love being here every day. It’s not a castle where I work or an orphanage where I was abandoned. It’s a home that Baz and I made together.

Once I’m through our living room, I enter Baz’s study. It’s made of almost all glass, so his potted plants can get proper sunlight. His bigger garden sits just outside next to Cherry’s stable. And there’s the man himself, hunched over his desk. I immediately drape myself over his back, encasing him in the quilt. He doesn’t flinch at all. It’s taken a few years but he’s not on guard all the time anymore.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“It’s too early,” I say, “come back to bed.”

Baz chuckles, leaning back into me. “I have to make a new healing potion for Mrs. Nelson, love. Her stomach is acting up again.”

“You can do that later. But right now,” I press my lips to his ear, “come,” I move to his cheek, “back,” under his jaw, “to,” and then his neck, “bed.”

I feel and hear him sigh. He leans further back, looping an arm around me to weave his fingers through my hair. “You’re a menace, Simon, always interfering with my work.”

“Mhm, and you love it.” I bury my face in his skin. He smells like his fancy handmade soaps, cedar and bergamot. His smell always makes me feel better. “And I love you.”

He sighs, turning his head to peck my temple. “I love you too, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before,” I tease.

“No I didn’t,” he says with a smile.

“Liar,” I kiss his pointy ear, “now leave your work alone for a bit.”

“I really have to do this, darling. But you should go. You have to be up in a few hours to get to the goats.”

I groan and hold him tighter. “Baz, we both need sleep. And I don’t know about you, love, but I sleep better next to you.”

It’s true. Ever since we started living here two years ago and I started sleeping next to Baz regularly, I’ve had less nightmares. And if I wake up from one, he’s right there to hold me and remind me none of it was real. I can sleep alone, but I prefer him with me.

“Alright,” he sighs, “give me a minute to finish this bottle.”

I grumble, but I know this is the best I can hope for from my workaholic healer mage lover. I press a kiss to the corner of his lip. “One minute. I’ll hold you to that.”

He chuckles, then turns his head to give me a proper kiss. My body feels like it’s melting, like it does every time we kiss. He pulls away smiling against my mouth. “One minute. I promise.”

“Mhm, good.”

He kisses me once more, and again, then we finally let go. I stand up straight and pull the quilt around myself again. Once I reach the doorway, I give Baz one more look over my shoulder. And he’s looking back. We both smile just as I turn the corner back through the cottage.

* * *

 

**Baz**

It’s a struggle to turn back to my work. I desperately want to follow Simon, scoop him up, and snog him silly as I carry him to bed. The idea of that motivates me to finish faster though. I put the last drop of silver in the vial, then grab my wand and mumble the spell I need. It warms up and glows a soft blue. Perfect. I cork it and put it in my basket. Rat and I will make the journey into town today on Simon’s ridiculously lovely horse. No more half hour walks for us. Cherry makes the journey far easier.

I walk back towards our bedroom. When Simon suggested we make our own house, I was cautious. I spent so long trying to get back to Pitch Manor, it felt wrong to leave it. But in the end it was the right thing to do. The manor held so much pain and loss. I couldn’t move forward there. But here, in mine and Simon’s cottage, I finally feel free.

When I walk in, Simon is already mostly asleep again. He’s laying on his side with Rat next to his head on the pillow. She’s technically my cat, but I swear she loves Simon more. I don’t blame her. I love him more too. I slip in next to him under the quilt, throwing an arm over his side and pressing my hand to his chest. He’s so warm. I used to be so cold, but I haven’t been since the moment he kissed me.

“You’re here,” he mumbles.

“I did promise,” I reply.

“Hm, true.” He snuggles closer, and I hold him tighter. “We gotta start packing tomorrow, y’know. Penny expects us there for the winter solstice. The snow is gonna make the trip longer.”

“Don’t worry, love, I remember.”

We don’t go into Watford’s capital since I’m still not exactly welcome, (even though Agatha has forgiven for the kidnapping, the citizens are still touchy,) but we go to Bunce’s family home just a few miles outside it. Simon moved there after the two months he spent living with me post-first kiss. It was hard watching him leave, but we weren’t ready to live together properly then. There was still so much we had to sort out on our own. My guilt and grief, his knighthood and future. So we just sent letters, until I finally felt comfortable going to Watford.

It was very scary at first, but eventually, Watford stopped being the place that killed my mother. Soon, it became where Simon introduced me to his best friend, where he first told me he loved me, where he said he wanted us to stop just visiting each other and build our house. And on the winter solstice, it’ll be where I ask him to marry me. I’ve got the ring hidden in my study. I know he’ll say yes, he already said he wants to get married. I’m very excited.

“Mm, good. You and Pen can trade magic notes again.”

I chuckle against his neck. “Yes, I suppose we can. We can’t stay _too_ long though, remember.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles. “Gotta see your family too. At least they like me now.”

I can almost hear Simon grin. Though it took a bit for my family to accept Simon, they’re now just happy that I’m happy. And it does help that Simon is so good and kind it’s impossible to hate him. I figured that out years ago. “Hm, yes. Not sure about my brother though. He did spit up on you the first time you met.”

Snow makes a displeased noise. “Yeah. Luckily he’s cute. Kids are cute.”

My heart races at those words. We’ve discussed adopting children, taking in orphans like Simon. But we both want to wait until we're a bit older before taking on such a responsibility. Still, I can't help imagining it though. Little kids running across our hill, playing with Cherry and Rat, fake wrestling with Snow in our backyard, watching with awe as I create bursts of magical light for their entertainment. A big, joyous family. I never realised I wanted that kind of life before him. And now I want it so much.

But I can wait. I'm more than happy right now. And Simon isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not anymore.

I kiss just under his ear. He lets out a happy sound. I close my eyes, pressing my nose into his neck. “Sleep, Snow. We’ll talk more about family and travel plans later.”

“Okay,” he yawns. “Love you.”

My eyes slip closed. When I first saw Simon, I assumed I’d always be looking at him from afar, never allowed to have him. But here he is in my arms, in our bed, telling me he loves me. Like he will for the rest of our lives.

We’re no longer the strong knight or the powerful warlock. Just a simple goatherd and healer. And we’re far better off for it.

“Love you too,” I whisper, before I drift off as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I tried to make the ending as fluffy as possible. They deserve it. Credit to Mrs_ZombieOctopus for Rat's name. Don't let her name your pets, lol. Any who, hope you all liked that. I tried my best to show their growth which leads Simon and Baz to decide to break the cycle. And I hope you didn't mind that they weren't with each other for most of the fic, that's my biggest worry tbh. Idk, I liked it. Hope guys did too :)
> 
> So I've got a lot schoolwork (yay exams and finals) so I don't think I'll be posting anything again until late April or early May. Black Swan updates will still happen but that's all I can handle rn unforunately :/ But once exams are done, I'll be opening requests again. So I'll see you guys then :D


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